


Acclimatisation

by Coppercrow



Category: PIERCE Tamora - Works, Tortall - Tamora Pierce
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-07
Updated: 2015-08-07
Packaged: 2018-04-13 10:53:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,823
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4519134
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Coppercrow/pseuds/Coppercrow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Acclimatisation: the process in which an individual adjusts to a gradual change in its environment allowing it to maintain performance across a range of environmental conditions.</p>
<p>Or;</p>
<p>The relationship between knight mistress and squire is not one forged easily.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Acclimatisation

**Author's Note:**

  * For [NightsMistress](https://archiveofourown.org/users/NightsMistress/gifts).



> Written for the White Dwarf Rabbit Hole Gift Exhange, for NightMistress' request for a fic focused on Alanna and Neal.
> 
> I hope you enjoy!

When Alanna returned to camp, she found her squire sprawled in a lanky heap in front of the fire. He looked half asleep, staring absently into the flames. A glance around the camp showed that he'd been busy. Most promisingly, there was a cookpot hanging over the flames, and a delicious smell was wafting out of it. The knight groaned appreciatively. She had many skills, but cooking had never been one of them. Had she been left to cook the brace of rabbit she'd caught this morning, they would have been barely edible and mostly unidentifiable. Much better to leave her squire to do that.

Her squire.

She was still struggling to process that development. Though it had been custom at the time she'd been knighted to take a squire immediately, but she'd avoided doing so. It had been one of the few perks of the disaster that had been her unveiling as a women. She'd never wanted a squire anyway. At heart, Alanna was at her best when she was on her own. She sought out danger, defeated evil on the darkest corners of the realm, all by herself. She'd never had the desire, nor the patience to spend four years with a squire trailing after her, getting into trouble and wearing her temper down to a thread. 

If, on the rare occasion that she considered the possibility to taking a squire on, she’d always imagined that it’d be a girl. After all, who better to train a female knight-to-be than the only lady knight in the realm? Then Jon had smashed that idea to pieces. The anger over that particular decision was still present, though it had faded somewhat over the past four years. She hadn’t wanted to accept it, but she’d had no choice but to. 

So there had gone her plans for a squire, tossed to the wind. She’d vowed that if she couldn’t have Keladry of Mindelan as her squire, she wouldn’t have a squire at all. It had been a choice she’d been perfectly content with. 

Yet for reasons beyond her understanding, she'd willingly taken on a squire. And not any squire, either. No, of all the possibilities, she'd taken on Nealan of Queenscove. She'd always known madness ran in her family, but this was a new level of insanity.

She could honestly say that she'd never met a less serious individual than her now squire. He was startlingly intelligent, and he seemed to channel it directly into his sense of humour. He quipped and joked and laughed himself through the day. It was although he was physically incapable of restraining his mouth. It was the most irritating thing she'd ever encountered. Most of time when her squire opened his mouth she had to suppress the urge to strangle him. She hadn’t thought it’d be so bad, but clearly she’d underestimated both her degree of patience and Queenscove's ability to frustrate.

As Alanna’s friends would tell you, she had a very specific sense of humour, that was only expressed amongst her nearest and dearest. Only amongst them did she tolerate teasing and jokes. Most often, it was around George that she actually allowed herself to see the humour in jokes. Actually, now she thought on it, her husband would probably appreciate her squire's humour.

George was going to love Queenscove, she realised with dawning horror. 

She quickly quashed the thought by walking over to the fire and peering into the pot. Stirring at it with a spoon, she decided it was done. Probably. It looked cooked enough, anyway, and she was hungry.

"Queenscove," she barked and got a slightly vindictive surge of pleasure as he jerked up with a start, nearly falling off the stump he'd perched himself on. Obviously he hadn't been as awake as she thought. "Time to eat."

Two weeks ago, she had no doubt Queenscove would have had a pert quip in response. Thankfully, she'd spent the last fortnight setting him to heal even the colds, coughs and other minor ailments of every commoner they'd come across on their journey to Pirate's Swoop. It was boring work, and so straightforward that even those with only a scrap of the Gift could do it - and her squire had a great deal more Gift than that. However, he'd been neglecting it over the last four years, and before she started teaching him a few of her tricks, he needed to build up some endurance. Otherwise, he'd try and heal something more difficult, and even up exhausted for days afterward. 

She had promised Baird that she'd teach his son to heal, and planned to do it right. It just so happened that doing it right had the welcome consequence of keeping him too busy and tired to get on her nerves. Now all she had to do was keep up the strategy for the next four years.

Though perhaps, she thought, eyeing the bags under her eyes, she'd give him a break once they reached Pirate's Swoop.

 

.x.x.x.x.x.

 

Neal poked at the with a stick morosely, sending a shower of sparks floating up into the dark sky. It was a new moon, and the night was as dark as pitch. He wasn't sure what time it was - too late, certainly, for him to be awake. Yet nonetheless he was. He blamed it on his impromptu nap earlier. It had been so warm in front of the fire, and he's been so tired that he'd just drifted off. As a result, the Lioness had nearly given him a heart attack when she woke him up for dinner.

Speaking of the Lioness, Nel couldn't help but glance across to the other side of the fire. His glorious knight mistress, the King's Champion, Alanna of Pirate's Swoop and Olau, was curled in her sleeping roll, out for the count. She was snoring softly, and occasionally mumbled the occasional word (he wondered if she knew she talked in her sleep. He certainly wasn't going to tell her). Other travellers might have been cautious about sleeping so deeply while on the road, but the Lioness had the benefit of a strong Gift and the knowledge of how to use it.

Neal had watched with fascination as she spun a glittering violet shield around their camp, weaving wards of invisibility and silence so strong he could feel it in his bones. Though the purple fire was gone now, he could still feel the magic all around them, keeping them safe. 

It was beyond anything Neal could do. Though it had been somewhat neglected the past few years, his own Gift was useless for most anything except healing. Though he could light a candle or ward a campsite to a degree, he'd never be anything like a battle mage. The sheer range of what the Lioness was capable of - from shielding to healing to battle magic - was frankly awe inspiring. It was a rare mage who posed such a flexible Gift, let alone a knight.

It was his Gift, along with the Lioness' that had resulted in her becoming his knight mistress. Though he was admittedly buoyed at the thought of learning how to heal, he was equally terrified at the prospect that the person teaching him would be the Lioness, she of the sharp tongue and even sharper sword. 

These days, he was beginning to wish someone had warned him not to accept her offer. he might be learning, but he wasn’t sure it was worth the price.

Anyone who knew him could tell you that he was incapable of hiding his tongue, even on pain of death. If he managed to survive squiredom without the Lioness cutting out his tongue, it would be a miracle. He'd already felt its lash more times than he could count over the last fortnight, and he had long since tired of it.. Neal was no stranger to getting in trouble - he’d spent four years provoking Lord Wyldon, after all- but he was less prepared for the violence of his knight mistress's temper. She had a tendency to work out her annoyance when she had him spar with her. Though Neal wasn't a terrible swordsman, he was monumentally outclassed the Lioness. Most days he felt like he'd been run over by a herd of centaurs, and combined with using his Gift day in and day out, he felt more exhausted than he'd ever as a page.

Not for the first time, he wished that he and Kel could switch places. He'd much prefer to serve under Sir Raoul of Goldenlake with a limited knowledge of magic, than be killed by his own knight mistress.

Speaking of Kel... Neal looked over at his knight mistress and frowned. He was surprised that the Lioness hadn't started grilling him for information on kel. She had to be aware that he was acquainted with Kel, even if she wasn't aware of how close they were. No doubt she'd do so soon. It was clear who the Lioness wished was her squire, after all.

Sighing, Neal stood and walked over to his bedroll. Though he still felt wide awake, he’d better try and get some sleep before the next day of exhausting menial work began.

He could only hope that the Lioness would give him a break when they arrived at Pirate’s Swoop. he didn’t know how he’d cope, otherwise.

 

.x.x.x.x.x.

 

“So, about your squire...”

Alanna’s looked up from the vambrace she’d been shining at the sound of her husband's voice. George was sitting across from her, a book resting pages down on his lap. Like they often did when work didn’t call them away, they had been relaxing in the Solar, simply soaking up each other’s presence. It was her only regret, really, about her life as a lady knight. She saw far too little of her husband and children alike. As such, she’d been all too glad to return to the waiting arms of her husband, and forget about everything else for at time.

“Queenscove? What about him?” she asked with a frown. She wasn’t sure quite what her husband was asking. He’d already known that she’d taken a squire by the time she’d arrived - after all, what sort of spy would he be if he didn’t know about the going ons of his own wife.

“I was curious about what you’ve been doing to the poor boy,” he replied, and although his voice was light, there was a hint of seriousness that made her frown deepen.

“Doing to him? What do you mean? I’ve been training him. He wants to learn how to balance being a healer and a knight. I’m teaching him.” Alanna honestly wasn’t sure what point her husband was trying to make - because he was clearly trying to make one. She didn’t appreciate it, and her growing annoyance showed in her voice.

“And while you’ve trained him, how many times have you lost your temper?” he continued, voice still light. Alanna narrowed her eyes in response.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” she snapped in reply, feeling slightly uncomfortable.

“You know exactly what I mean. I’ve met Nealan of Queenscove before, and I have never seen the boy this quiet. Normally his mouth never seems to stop moving, and yet whenever he’s around you he’s a quiet as the dead,” he said, losing the lightness of tone.

The lady knight shifted uncomfortably in her chair. George had a way of making her acknowledge things she’d rather not, and it seemed this was no exception. Though she wanted to say something, snap a defence, she forced herself not to. It wouldn’t do any good, not when he was right. George must have seen something on her face, because when he spoke again his voice was softer.

“I know you’re disappointed that you couldn’t take Keladry as your squire, but that’s no excuse to take it out on him. The boy is her best friends, for Gods sake. It’s hardly going to endear you to her if you keep treating him this way,” he said, staring intently at her her with frank hazel eyes. 

Alanna opened her mouth, stopped, went to speak, and stopped again. Her first instinct was to deny what George was saying, but the more she thought, the more uncomfortable she became as she thought back over the last two weeks. With growing dismay, she began to realise just how hard she’d been on her squire. It hadn’t been intentional, not really - she would never treat someone like that intentionally, it wasn’t her nature. Yet it was was clear that her bitterness over Keladry had bled into the way she treated her squire. The realisation set unpleasantly with her. This was not the sort of person she wanted to be, and yet here she was.

George could clearly see how she was feeling, because he crossed the room to sit beside her, wrapping a comforting arm around her shoulders. She rested her head against his shoulder, releasing a long sigh. For a minute they sat in silence, before he spoke again.

“Give him a chance, Alanna. Try not to snap at him so much, maybe. Talk to him- gods, ask him about Keladry. You’d both probably enjoy that,” he murmured, twisting around to kiss the top of her head, “The two of you have to spend the next four years together, so you may as well get to know him.”

Alanna let out a long sigh, but nodded.

“Tomorrow,” she murmured in reply. “I’ll start tomorrow.”

 

.x.x.x.x.x.

 

Neal sat on the sun warmed stone of the fief’s wall, looking out at the sea. The sun glinted mirror bright off the waves, so far below. It was times like this that he was glad he didn’t share kel’s fear of heights. With the sun shining hot on his bank, a view like this and a hunk of ham and cheese fliched from the kitchens, he could almost forget the miserable sludge of the last two weeks.

“There you are.”

Neal jerked forward, nearly toppling off the wall from where he’d been sitting. As it was his meal went plummeting down onto the rocks below. A warm hand grasped his shoulder pulling him back and he turned to meet the bright violet eyes of his knight mistress. Neal froze for a moment, before collecting himself. Standing, he hopped off the edge of the way and onto the lowered path the his knight mistress was standing on. 

Hiding his confusion with a wide grin, he swept into Player’s deep bow. 

“Thank you for saving me, most glorious knight mistress. Without you I would surely have fallen to my death, and my father would have been down another sob,” he quipped, tactfully not mentioning it was her fault he’d nearly fallen in the first place. Straightening, he snuck a glance down at her face, waiting for the inevitable scowl to appear.

It was all he could do to stop himself from gaping seconds later, when not a scowl but an amused smile appeared instead. As it was, he couldn’t help but stare as she raised an eyebrow at him.

“Save you? Hardly. But it seemed the least I could do, since it me who caused you to nearly fall in the first place,” she replied. At this point, Neal wasn’t even trying to hid his shock. His green eyes were wide as he stared at her. This was the most civil conversation they’d had in days, and it had him flummoxed. She must have noticed, but she didn’t comment on it - though he swore he heard her chuckle (it must have been a mistake though - his knight mistress didn’t chuckle). 

“Since I made you lose your lunch, I’ll have the kitchens make something up for us, while we discuss some things” she continued, turning to walk back into the fief proper. Neal felt the bottom of his stomach drop out when she said ‘discuss some things’. Though he knew it was irrational, he felt a sudden pang of fear. She’d seemed cheerful enough, but what if it was because she was planning on dismissing him as her squire-?

“Relax, Queenscove. Its nothing serious. I thought be could discuss what you encountered using your Gift while we travelled,” she said from where she’d paused from a few steps ahead, “And I’ve heard that your friends with Keladry of Mindelan, correct?” she continued

Neal nodded reflexively, still feeling like he’d stepped into a strange parallel universe. It was bizarre, but in a good way. For the first time since he’d become the Lioness’ squire, he felt as though maybe, just maybe, the next four mightn’t be quite so bad.

“Good. I expect you to tell me all about her.”

Neal nodded again, this time followed with a grin as he followed her back into the fief. 

“Of course, Lioness.”

**Author's Note:**

> Remember, reviews are love.


End file.
